Journey to the West

As expected, moving Barion's wagon out of the woods took longer than expected, and by the time the three of them had emerged onto the barren, rocky terrain of the Steppe, the sun had already fallen well past the horizon.

"There, in the distance." With a keen eye, Pale pointed towards a pulsing light far across the plains, "When we draw close, allow me to greet the tribe first. They may not react favourably to the sight of an outsider."

"Will they be expecting a gift before we're allowed to trade with them?"

"I see you are familiar with our customs." Her long, white hair danced in the heavy wind, "Is it possible that you've travelled with a band of Beastkin in the past?"

"Once or twice." He brushed her off, "I know they won't accept any magical items, though."

"Hm?" Turning to face him, she tilted her head, "-Well, perhaps long ago, magic was condemned by our kind, but sorcery has become increasingly popular over the years. I myself am a practitioner of such arts."

"Sorry. It's just something I heard on the road." Barion doubled back on his words, "In that case, I've got plenty of magical items stored away, and Fusala's quite the alchemist if you're looking for potions."

"Alchemy is a rarity here on the Steppe. I'm sure her expertise will be most welcome."

"Do the eastern tribes still practise Senpo nowadays?"

As if alerted to something, Pale's flopping ears suddenly stood on end. "...Where did you hear that name?"

"It's just a tradition I once heard about."

"The Senpo style has been forbidden for many centuries." She explained, "Outliers to this rule still exist, but the School of Iron has been dismantled completely and its most influential instructors have long since passed. Frankly, I am surprised to hear that the name has managed to travel beyond our borders."

"You'd be surprised just how available certain information is nowadays." He mused.

"Excuse me for a moment." Saying that, she hopped from the still-moving wagon and ran alongside it, "Allow me to greet the tribe first. I will return when all is well."

Saying that, she sprinted with surprising agility towards the warm light in the distance, leaving Barion idling on the wide-open plains. Materialising from his shadow, Fusala took the passenger's seat and watched Pale running off with an intrigued look.

"This 'Senpo' you mentioned-" She began, "Our newly-acquired ally seemed disturbed at the mention of it. May I ask what it is?"

"It was a kind of martial art passed down between the Beastkin tribes." Barion answered truthfully, "Some called it the 'School of Iron', or the 'Way of Iron'. An unarmed fighting style developed for use in real combat, as opposed to competition-based martial arts like the kind you would see in Anjima. I once heard a story about a single Senpo Foxkin defeating an entire company of Banner Knights from Tor, before the coalition was founded."

"Pale mentioned that it is now forbidden. Why is that?"

"The core philosophy of Senpo is that a master of the style has to be taught from birth. A lot of the tribes who used to practise it had gotten into the habit of kidnapping children to use as trainees. And not everyone survived the training, either. It was that brutal."

"You speak as if you have experienced it first-hand."

"It's just something I heard."

"If I may be frank, Barion-" Fusala replied, "Your knowledge of Steppe culture far outclasses your understanding of any other. I would go as far as to say that you speak of it as if it were your own homeland."

"Do I look like a Beastkin?"

"I would not be offended either way." She continued, "However, as you stated previously, you would like for me to reveal my worries as soon as they emerge. I believe it is only fair to request the same of you."

"...Right." He rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm sorry, Fusala. Once we get a chance to rest, I'll tell you the truth.

Barion's eyes widened as the shadow-girl leaned over and turned his head before pushing her lips against his, lingering for an instant before leaning back into her seat.

"Thank you. I appreciate your honesty." She said curtly.

"No problem…"

"Is it possible that my actions have made you uncomfortable?"

"No, not at all. I just wasn't-"

"Ah, so the mysterious human enjoys the company of his servant?" A low voice caught their attention, and the two of them looked to see Pale standing at the wagon's side, "I have heard that the men of Tor struggle with containing their libido. It is a great pleasure to see that not all tales of humans are exaggerated."

"It's rude to eavesdrop, you know?" Barion muttered, "Or, is that what you're into?"

"Hah. You're certainly quick on the draw." The girl crossed her arms, "My tribe is willing to welcome you, providing you offer a gift worthy of our status."

"I don't suppose gold is worth much here?"

"Beautiful, to be certain, but the worth of a coin is non-existent here in the Steppe." She responded, "Might you have something more practical?"

"How does a barrel of salt pork sound? We've got butter and oil, too. I know those are prized around here."

"Either or would be quite welcome. The hunting on this plain has been poor as of late."

"Barion, is it wise to part with our food stores?" Fusala asked, "Would this tribe not prefer a gift in the form of a magical item?"

"I've dealt with these elders before, and given the choice between food and an item they may never use, food wins every time. Being on the move every day means you aren't always fortunate enough to have livestock or oil presses at hand."

Disembarking from the wagon, the three of them went about discussing how much of Barion's stock would go to the tribe. In the end, they decided that a barrel of salt pork and three sealed jugs of oil would be offered as a gift. Marking the side of the barrel with a piece of charcoal and setting the jugs aside, the three of them continued on their way towards the burning light in the distance, eventually spotting the flickering of a large fire pit and several large tents pitched openly on the plains.

Pale's forewarning visit had already caused a commotion among the similarly rabbit-eared members of that tribe, who had gathered near the camp's perimeter to watch the wagon roll in, some gasping and pointing at Fusala, who had chosen not to hide herself. Emerging from the gathering crowd came an ageing man who stood taller than the others, clutching a thin, oaken staff at his side. Bowing gracefully, the rest of the crowd followed suit as the chattering began to die down.

"Welcome, travellers." He spoke warmly, "Pale has informed us that the two of you are interested in accompanying this tribe on its meagre journey?"

"Elder Mantan?" Barion presumed, "My name is Barion, and this Homunculus is Fusala. We'd be interested in attending the Beastkin summit with you."

"These travellers offer us a barrel of dried pork and high-quality oil from the southern lands." Pale followed up, "I do not believe their intent is to harm us."

"It is the duty of a tribe to welcome those who find themselves alone on the path." The elder placed a hand behind his hunched back, "We would accept your gift with thanks, and lead you to the far-planes of Ip, if you wish to see the summit with your own eyes."

"We would appreciate that." Barion finished.

Almost as soon as the two of them disembarked, the isolationist Rabbitkin were quick to surround the rare sight of a human, examining the wagon and its contents with great curiosity. Fusala, too, was bombarded with questions regarding her origins and nature. Amidst the chaos, Barion couldn't help but smile as a long-lost feeling welled up in his chest--a mixture of both nostalgia and apprehension.

Once the meat and oil were safely in the hands of the tribe, many of its members returned to their tents or carried on with the tasks they had been attending to beforehand, simmering the worries of Barion and Fusala. Pale, who had been watching the scene with interest, patted Barion forcefully on the back once the crowd had cleared completely.

"You're free to use any of our tents to rest." She began, "-Though, from what I've seen, I imagine the two of you will want to seek privacy within your wagon."

"Very funny." He replied, "How long will it be before we start moving?"

"Tomorrow, or perhaps the day after." Her smile wavered somewhat, "Something is not right here. The hunters are struggling to bring back enough food to feed the entire tribe. Something your intervention has remedied, at least for a while."

"How far are these plains we're heading to?"

"With a good pace, we may reach the plains of Ip within a week--that's when the summit is scheduled to occur. This will be the largest in quite some time, I believe."

Looking from side to side, she leaned in, "May I ask what it is that you're searching for? You talked about it as if it was a matter of grave importance."

"Like I said, it would probably be for the best if I didn't tell you."

"Does it have something to do with the summit?"

"Possibly. It's difficult to say."

"How cloak-and-dagger." She smirked, "But so long as you bring no harm to my tribe, I will not pry into your personal business. Only promise me that you will not lay a hand on any of our young women, no matter how depraved your human instincts grow."

"Does that mean you're fair game?"

"Hah! Even if it was to defend my people, I'm not sure I could stomach mating with a lowly human." Leaning forward, her face nearly touched his, "Perhaps if you prove yourself, you will receive some of the attention you crave so dearly."

With that, she turned tail and wandered away, leaving Barion blinking in disbelief.

"It appears that she has a low opinion of humans." Fusala, who had been idling nearby, joined his side, "I am not sure how to feel about you openly flirting with other women."

"You don't sound too bothered by it." He replied.

"As we have discussed, my range of emotional expression is quite limited." She stared at him deeply, "However, if that was not the case, I would be furious."

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Then all is well." She sighed, "...In any case, are you willing to discuss what we spoke of earlier?"